milliways_bar | (no subject)

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In between running outdoors, practice at the shooting range, and studying like hell for when he goes back, Adrian's been keeping himself busy by making himself a reasonably basic longbow. It's just a plain ol' wooden selfbow- backing it with anything comes later. After he's dealt with a far more basic question, namely, arrows. Can't do much without those. He's managed to braid himself a string, and he reckons it'll be respectable enough for the weight of the bow, but until he's actually got something to shoot he's kinda screwed.

Now, he could get fiberglass shafts or dowels from the Bar, but what fun would that be? He's got a whole forest outside to work with, and if he can't find a couple of willow wands or something along those lines that he can split and whittle down to usable shafts then he's not the country boy he thought he was.

He'll be coming indoors once he's done, so feel free to catch the Marine either inside or out.

[tinytag: Adrian Shephard (Half-Life: Opposing Force)]

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"Yeah, that makes two of us, but it's gonna happen one way or another when you're at war," says Shephard. "A good commander keeps the numbers down far as he can while he's still fillin' out the objectives, I figure."

"Shit, man, that puts it way the fuck out of my league," says Shephard. "I don't do philosophy much, I got other shit to do with my time."

There's a pause.

"Name's Shephard, by the way. Corporal Adrian Shephard."

"Yes."

Beat.

"And is not stupid."

"Me too. I kill Heartless. Roxas. XIII of XIII, the Key of Destiny." Pause, "I don't even really get what that means, but that's the title they gave me. Makes more sense than Melodious Nocturne, I guess, but not by much."

"No shit." Adrian laughs coarsely. "Dumbass commanders get more Marines killed than the enemy any day."

"Heartless what?" asks Shephard, who thinks it's an entirely reasonable question. "Sounds like you got yourself a kung-fu movie goin' on there, it's that kind of a title."

"Heartless whatever is around. Agrabah has pot-spiders. They're Heartless that used to be crockery." he's not joking.

"I have not met many Marines."

Well, not in circumstances that were not adversarial, anyway.

"They are all like you?"

"Naw, just some of 'em," says Adrian. "Same as any other bunch of men with big fuckin' guns, you're gonna get some that ain't like the rest."

X considers this.

"But none that do not like guns."

It's a little bit of a question.

"Or other weapons."

"... uh huh," says Shephard. "See, now, I'd bitch about that soundin' like a crock of shit if I hadn't been here long enough to know that damn near everywhere else is really fuckin' weird. And home ain't exactly normal neither, not any more."

Adrian snorts. "You don't join the Corps if you don't like guns," he says. "We got other weapons, but guns're kinda central to the whole fuckin' point. The fuckin' Marine Creed starts with 'This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine,' for fuck's sake."

"If you did say it was a crock of shit I'd just shrug. It's not like I can care. Everything has a heart. Everything can lose that heart. The only things that don't have a heart are Nobodies - I don't know why Nobodies are called Nobodies and Heartless are Heartless when Heartless are hearts fallen to Darkness and Nobodies don't have hearts. So don't ask - and that's why Nobodies don't really exist. Exactly."

He's as confused as Shephard probably is. He didn't get so much taught as lectured until he could parrot the right information.

"... Somebody here's on drugs," says Shephard after a while, "'n I'm pretty sure it ain't me."

"I don't even have biology." Roxas points out, "Neither do my ex-bosses." he pauses at that, "Neither did they, when I was working for them. I guess a bunch of them got hearts." The last is said dubiously.

X offers a slight shrug.

"Sometimes people think they like fighting. Until they have to fight."

At least she doesn't flinch back.

"That is what Rose said. About my knife."

Beat.

"I am a weapon, too."

X still doesn't quite get the metaphor. Give her time.

"Tell me none of 'em're named anything like 'Grinch' or 'Mary Lou Who'?" Shephard says suddenly.

He may be remembering his childhood stories a little bit wrong.

"That's why we always made it real fuckin' easy to leave during Basic," says Shephard. "If you don't belong in the Marines, we don't want you and you sure as fuck don't have to stay. Not unless there's a war on and we've got a draft."

He pauses.

"Well, that's how it was, anyway. I'm gonna have to rebuild the whole fuckin' Corps up from just me."

"Uh. No. Xenmas, Xigbar, Xaldin, Vexen, Lexaeus, Zexion, Saix, Axel, Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene. The only one with a zed is Zexion. The rest have x's."

X considers this.

"You will need help with training?"

It makes sense, if there are no other Marines left.

"People here are good at fighting. And tactics."

"Just checkin'," says Shephard. "We got a story about a real asshole of a guy named the Grinch who gets a heart for Christmas. Weird shit, but I didn't write it."

"I could sure as hell use it," says Shephard. "Been studyin' from as many books as I could, 'n goin' out for drill when I got the spare time, but that ain't as much help as I'd like."

X falls silent for a moment. Thinking.

"Military connections are an important criteria?"

"Military experience, more like," says Shephard. "Just wearin' the uniform don't mean shit. Livin' the life 'n bein' out in the field, that's the important part."

"If it were that easy Santa would have given us hearts a long time ago." Roxas says simply. He knows Santa exists.

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